


The Brain Room

by Willowingends



Series: The Department of Mysteries [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowingends/pseuds/Willowingends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always been second best. Seventh Best. His own thoughts have always torn at his skin the most, despite his scars, his feats. <br/>But he's always loved the most, been the strongest support, and he's learning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brain Room

Thoughts leave deep scars.

Well, Ron knew all about that didn't he? He had curling scars across his arms from the thoughts of another person. He had scars throughout his mind from his own thoughts. Not that he'd ever let you know about them. Battle scars were attractive, if ugly. Physical scars got you praise and sympathy.

Mental scars just left you broken and fragile and no one wanted to help you with them.

He knew that, he'd known that, he would always remember that. 

He would remember the foolishness that had sprung out of jealousy. How he had hurt Hermione, had hurt Harry, because he couldn't stand that thought of them being successful, happy, of earning more praise and knowledge and greatness while he sat back and was second best.

He was always second best. Seventh best.

The most disappointing son, the most disappointing child.

It was a fact he thought he could live with, it was a fact that had clawed him apart from the inside and left him with a gaping wound that could be picked and prodded at. A weakness he didn't know how to shore up, a hole that he didn't know how to fill.

It was the weakness that had made him jealous in their fourth year, it was the weakness that lead to him leaving Harry and Hermione their seventh. Always jealous, always weak, always aware of how much lesser he was than the both of them. Not as smart, not as brave. Next to them, with the whispers in his ears, it as hard to remember he was good at anything.

And yet, somehow, it was their fifth year that had tattooed that all into his skin. The tendrils of scars that reminded him of how powerful thoughts were, how deeply they could wound, how one's mind was the greatest enemy to be faced.

He hated examining his thoughts. Maybe that's why he had been so susceptible. 

He's grown up since then, he likes to think. He no longer is envious of how cool Bill looks, how far away from home Charlie escaped. He no longer envies George's talent in magic, in humor. He no longer envies Fred (except on those nights where everything hurts. Where every failure he's performed claws at his inner thoughts, drains away all his happiness, and Hermione's embrace is nice but doesn't help, and Harry's concern is welcomed but also feels like putting salt on an open wound).

He no longer wishes to be like Percy, driven and focused. He no longer wishes to be like Ginny, the perfect daughter, the fiercest storm.

He is no longer jealous of Harry's fame and power, he has seen how heavy a mantle it can be, how it rests on his best friend's shoulders and bows them until his friend is ready to collapse. He is no longer jealous of Hermione's smarts, he has seen how she strives for them, has heard why she tries so hard. He does not envy the way they have to continuously climb and reach for the next block of achievements so they can feel valuable, so they can feel justified in their place in the wizarding world.

He's happy to be just Ron, on most days. Because 'just Ron' is an amazing thing, or so he's finally managed to make himself believe.

He's the best friend, the strong supporter. He's the fiercest defender and the considerate lover. He's learned to care for other people, and make his own path. He's learned that being second best, or third best, or seventh best, isn't a bad spot to be in. Because he still exists, and he can be the safety from the storm. He's not interesting, so people turn away. He's a war hero, but he doesn't gather the fame to himself. He is a safety net where all his tired friends can fall.

And they love him, and he loves them back. And it feels so nice to be loved and know that it's not out of sympathy, or pity, or family duties. They love him because he is kind, and strong, and he's Ron, the best friend, the truest friend. The one who's done his best and always comes back because of how much he cares.

He loves them, and it takes strength to love as many as he does, as strongly as he does.

And he's not haunted by nightmares, not really.

He's chased by the days where his thoughts rear their ugly heads. Days where he feels like nothing he does is right or good enough. Days where he fears everyone he knows only talks to him out of pity. Because he's not good enough, he's not strong enough. He's not who they want in their lives but he's who they settle for. And on those days his scars burn and his head aches and everything around him is wrong because he is wrong and everything hurts.

And those days aren't helped by Hermione's loving words or Harry's touch on the shoulder. They aren't helped by his family's letters or smiles or even George's shops. They aren't helped by the fact he has a job he's good at, a hobby he enjoys that makes people smile. They're the days he simply has to buck up, keep his mouth shut, and keep his anger inside of him until he's somewhere safe, somewhere private, and he can scream and shout and break things until he has nothing left but an ache in his bones and burning scars and the hope that he'll wake up tomorrow better, stronger, for this momentary collapse.

And Ron loves life with a passion he never knew he had, and he carves out his own spot, his own niche, and he's the best at what he does.


End file.
